


Fic: Kung-fu Marathon

by dapatty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-08
Updated: 2008-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-26 20:03:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/pseuds/dapatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sam and Dean have a day off and sex ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fic: Kung-fu Marathon

Sam was silently surrounded by a storm cloud of annoyance as he watched his brother drag his feet..

"...so I guess we're keeping the room another night?" said Sam with a sigh, looking at the clock, which defiantly read 12:05—instead of Dean and his ass, stuck up in the air, while he searched under the bed for his last pair of cleanest dirty socks that he might’ve missed.

At those words, Dean stood, socks forgotten, if he were ever really looking for them.

"Sam. Sammy Sam Sammy. C'mere. C'mere and sit down a sec." Sam sat, blowing a wayward strand of hair out of his eyes, looking at his brother with an expression Dean knew all too well since the Tuesdays happened. "I know we've been here too long, and the cops might find us, and I know you want to move on, and save me, and save the world, but can I spend one day, just one day, with you and a twelve-pack and a kung fu marathon? Please?" Dean pouted, which he knew full-well was cheating, and didn't care one bit.

"Fine," Sam ground out, bitchface still evident.

"I'll go to the diner down the road and get us a pie?" Dean asked, checking Sam’s sincerity and adding a concession. “I’ll make it chocolate. Your favorite.” The accompanying enticing eyebrow-waggle met the stony brooding face of doom. “Or I’ll get you some Lucky Charms…” There was a tiny hint of desperation in the trademark Dean Winchester sell, like he was afraid his easy confidence wouldn’t get him everything he wanted this time.

"I said fine.”

"Yeah, but you didn't sound like you meant it."

Sam rolled his eyes and lifted up his hands, which Dean caught and held tightly.

Sam met Dean’s eyes and his face softened. Bitchface forgotten. “Get blueberry.” He said, sounding resigned but not wholly displeased at his brother’s unrelenting ability to talk him into stupid things.

Dean lifted an eyebrow. “But that’s my favorite.”

“I know,” Sam said with a little mischief-peppered smile, “And I like the taste of it on your tongue.”

Dean gave Sam _the look_ , the one that’s all heat, charm and cockiness. He leaned down to catch Sam’s lips with his, his tongue parting Sam’s lips and exploring. Sam let himself groan quietly into his brother’s mouth.

“That tongue?” Dean asked, pulling away.

“Mmmmhmmmm,” Sam agreed, still feeling the warmth from the kiss.

“Then I guess I better go get some pie!” Dean grinned smugly and started to pull away.

“Tease.” Sam pouted.

“Sammy, I am anything but subtle,” Dean said, shaking his head with completely faked chagrin, pulling Sam to his feet. “Besides, someone’s gotta tell them we need the room again—and don’t forget the ‘No Housekeeping’ sign. I don’t think that lady in Salt Lake City will ever be the same.”

Sam rolled his eyes, then let himself remember that night – the feel of Dean’s rough cheek on the back of his neck as Dean commanded Sam to come for him while Dean thrust deep, eager. Dean’s hand on his hip, clutching, and the other on his cock while Sam tried not to come undone, tried to make the moment last until Dean wanted him to fall over the edge.

He was half hard and blushing, just thinking about it.

Yeah, except. That’s when the maid opened the door, with that last thrust, to find them intertwined—Dean’s hand covered in come wrapped around Sam’s now soft cock, Dean kissing the back of Sam’s neck. She stood there, eyes wide as saucers, crossed herself, turned away, and threw the door shut behind her, the both of them cackling in its wake and the afterglow.

Dean grinned like a Cheshire cat, thumbing at Sam’s cheek, eyes dancing with amusement at his brother’s reaction.

“Shut up.” Sam said, feeling his blush deepen.

“I didn’t say anything,” Dean protested, grinning wider, making his way towards the door.

“Go get pie!”

“Yes, boss.” Dean threw a mock salute on his way out.

  
*************  


Dean returned exactly an hour and three minutes later. Apparently, it takes like forty-five minutes to bake a fresh pie—leave it to Dean to find a bakery that actually bakes pie fresh-to-order-by-a-wonderful-matronly-lady named Ethel—make those two pies, a chocolate and a blueberry. Yeah, he got samples while he was waiting. Oh, and don’t forget the beer, of which he cracked two open, sitting them beside the pie and producing two plastic forks.

Dean started to dig into the blueberry pie before him, and gestured for Sam to do the same, then stopped.

“Dude, what?” Dean asked, taking in Sam’s furrowed eyebrows with a trace of amusement.

“What do you think? ‘ _Dude, what_?’” Sam rolled his eyes, radiating frustration.

“I think I’m gonna eat some pie,” Dean said, shoveling a mouthful and proceeding to moan wantonly, complete with an eyes-rolling-into-the-back-of-his-head fluttery expression, and declaring there should be more Ethels in the world. “Unless you had some other ideas,” he added innocently, practically batting his eyelashes and shining up his halo.

“And here I thought you were going to play dumb,” Sam said with evident relief, closing the distance between them.

Before Dean could open his mouth to protest, Sam’s lips covered his, battling and conquering his tongue, tasting the sweetness of blueberry and a hint of butter crust and beer. Dean moaned appreciatively.

Sam pulled back to meet the heat of Dean’s gaze with one of his own.

“Now, I want you to undress,” Sam stated with a hint of authority.

Dean lifted an eyebrow as if to say, _You’re in charge_.

“I want to see you naked.” Sam said simply, with the same tone. “Now, Dean.”

The briefest of expectant smiles lined the corners of the shorter man’s mouth and eyes. He slid the leather jacket off first, then his boots and socks as he stood. Then started with the buttons of his flannel over shirt. Next, removing the t-shirt without much flair. The belt, he lingered on, slowly undoing the buckle. Pulling the end of the belt loose inch by inch, drawing attention to himself—not that Sam wasn’t already paying attention. Not that he couldn’t feel Sam’s eyes on him. Button, fly, zipper slowly down, pants then drop around his ankles. He stepped out of them as he pushed his boxers down his legs allowing himself a satisfied smirk when he heard Sam’s breath hitch at just how happy Dean was to be standing there.

Dean looked at Sam expectantly, awaiting instructions.

“I want you…” Sam deliberated, tilting his head, “on the bed. Sit on the edge.”

Moving smoothly, slowly, allowing his brother to look at scars and all, Dean crossed the room and sat on the end of the bed. Sam inhaled slowly, pleased at his growing comfort in being the one in charge, and reminded himself that the point of this game was not to rush over and fuck Dean cross-eyed.

Sam, with his new air of assurance, took a few strides to close the distance between them. Standing in front of his brother, he was glad for the bed’s perfect height.

“What do you want?” Dean asked. Such an innocent and yet loaded question and the look in Dean’s eyes was anything and everything in between, promising all of it, with a smirk like he knew exactly how he looked, and that he knew Sam felt like he’d burn alive with the heat of that gaze.

 _Everything_ , Sam thought, but settled for, “Your lips around my cock.”

Dean started to reach for Sam’s belt, then paused, remembering the game. He lifted an eyebrow in question.

“Now.” Sam replied, and Dean undid the belt and Sam’s pants with quick efficiency. He took his time with the boxers, sliding them down past Sam’s hips, then thighs, calf to ankles leaving him so beautifully exposed and half erect. Dean’s hands trailed fingernails barely raking back up Sam’s legs causing Sam to give the faintest of sighs in anticipation. Dean’s hands rested on Sam hips, a thumb idly caressing the taller man’s skin. Tilting his head slightly, Dean reached out with his tongue and made a lazy circle around the head of Sam’s cock as if to sample it, driving his brother insane. Dean’s eyes met Sam’s as he took the head into his mouth and proceeded to suck like a well-paid French whore. Sam only half-swallowed a moan, growing harder under the heat of Dean’s gaze. Little fucker looked pleased with himself, especially when one of his hands took Sam’s balls in his grasp, delivering a gentle squeeze.

“Fuck, Dean!” It was taking all of Sam’s self-control not to come, and now his brother was grinning around his cock. “Enough.” Dean pulled away, his face carefully composed, snark held in check after his brief victory. Sam kicked out of his pants, tugging off his shirt.

“Now, I guess I’ll just have to fuck you.” Sam stated, his confident air returning as he pushed his brother onto his back. He moved low, crawling between Dean’s legs and kneeling up between them with evident satisfaction, surveying his territory. Sam focused on his ‘victim,’ enjoying every detail, down to the golden amulet lying perfectly between Dean’s collarbones, the scars, and the sweet ripple of his abs. “Show you who’s boss.”

“Then show me.” Dean said huskily, with a barely concealed smile. Sam pushed his brother’s knees further apart, lifting up a bit to encourage Dean to brace his feet on Sam’s shoulders, and he complied as Sam ran one hand down his leg, cupping Dean’s ass gently and then less gently, kneading and squeezing as Sam raised his other hand to suck his own fingers, slurping greedily so Dean could get a good look. And boy, did he. Sam was practically sex personified, eyes closed with delight, lips shining and straining around the fingers that he was so obviously imagining to be Dean’s cock, adam’s apple bobbing up and down with each swallow until, after what seemed like a tantalizing eternity, Sam’s warm, slick fingers were pressing at Dean’s entrance. “Jesus, Sam…” Sam slid a finger in, to tease, and Dean gasped. Another finger, and a tremulous moan rose from Dean’s throat as Sam’s long fingers found the smaller man’s prostate, circled, pressed, and thrust, a third fingertip slowly working him open. “Fuck, Sammy.”

“What do I want, Dean?” Sam asked, nearly smiling at Dean’s hooded gaze, fingers still flexing.

“To fuck me, Sammy,” Dean said breathlessly. At that, Sam allowed himself a heated grin and guided his cock halfway into Dean in one smooth move, causing him to groan with pleasure mixed with a little pain and gratified surprise. Sam shimmied and worked his way deeper into Dean. Dean’s cock twitched against his stomach in response, and Sam’s hands tightened on his brother’s thighs. “Fuck,” Dean moaned, as Sam started to slide in and out of Dean’s ass, building a rhythm as he went. Dean’s legs tightened, his toes twitching on Sam’s clavicles, as he arched his back to meet each stroke. Sam smiled, a real smile that made Dean think of Christmas, and reached for the lube, repositioning himself so that Dean was pinned, splayed and spread and panting, underneath him. Dean reached for Sam’s arm and grasped tightly, eyes closing. For a while, it was all gone, everything they worried about, all the deals and demons and timing and bad guys, and just the two of them were left, holding fast to each other like they knew it might be their only chance.

“Sammy,” Dean whispered, saying everything with that one word and Sam came undone with a final deep thrust and a satisfied guttural sound. Sam leaned against his brother, feeling boneless, until he could gather enough blood to think again.

He looked at Dean’s still hard, throbbing cock with confusion, eyebrows furrowed. “You didn’t…” he murmured.

“No,” Dean said thickly.

“I forgot to say,” Sam realized, and pouted, a little frustrated at himself.

Dean’s hand reached out to touch his face, reassuringly. “Just do something about it. I’m turnin’ blue here.”

Sam grinned and maneuvered them both, letting Dean’s legs fall to the bed to rest. He then used a hand to slide Dean’s cock into his mouth, taking nearly the entire length in one slow gulp.

“Holy shit!” Dean exclaimed, the sudden warm haven of Sam’s mouth engulfing him like nothing else, feeling Sam’s hum in response. Sam pulled back, to only hold the tip in his mouth. He met Dean’s eyes through his bangs, with a wicked gleam of promise in his eyes, his hair tickling Dean’s thigh.

“Need to get you a scrunchie.” Dean muttered, hips trembling in anticipation. He reached out, brushing Sam’s hair away from his face fondly.

Sam took the opportunity to slide his lips down Dean’s length, mouth meeting the base of his cock, throat clenching, milking and Dean came screaming, head thrown back as Sam swallowed him down. He collapsed back onto the mattress like a smug sack of flour. Sam crawled up beside him and pulled him close, and Dean couldn’t even form the words to protest cuddling. Aw, maybe he didn’t mind anyway. _Being the little spoon is awful nice and warm right now_ , he thought, amused.

“So, Kung-fu marathon, huh?” Sam asked after a few minutes of recovery.

“Yeah, and pie.” Dean said, feeling sleep slowly black out his peripheral vision. “But that would require moving.”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed contentedly. “Jerk.”

“Bitch.”


End file.
